


Blackout

by eucatastrophe__x



Series: Light of my Life [3]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Maudlin!Richard, Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Sexuality Crisis, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:59:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eucatastrophe__x/pseuds/eucatastrophe__x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way Richard saw it, he could trace every problem in his life back to one simple fact: everything would be so much easier if he was a nice, normal, heterosexual male.</p><p>Maybe he and Lee had been doomed from the start, and maybe that was all his fault.</p><p>Or maybe he just had a huge, life-altering decision or two to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cut you off soon, sir.”

Richard raised his deadened gaze unwillingly to see the bartender eyeing his empty glass.

“Soon,” he repeated, “but not yet.”

“No, not yet.”

“In that case, I’ll have another in the meantime.”

His mind was still clear, his voice barely slurred at all, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was some cruel act of god: give him the constitution of an ox when all he wanted to do was forget.

As it was, he remembered.

_God,_ he remembered.

He remembered their first kiss and all the surrounding detail in beautiful technicolour. He could recite the date, the weather, the scene they’d been shooting, and what Lee had been wearing when he approached Richard and asked casually if he wanted to go for a drink and discuss “kingly things,” as he’d put it with a grin.

He remembered the name of the bar, the songs that were on the radio during the drive, Lee’s shocking attempt at a parallel park, and the corner table where they’d sat and dissected their roles – at least to begin with, before the conversation veered away from all things Tolkein to their childhoods and fears and goals and a number of other things that Richard would usually baulk at sharing with someone he knew on such a superficial level.

He remembered that they’d both ordered only local craft beers, and the way that the bartender brought over random drinks periodically for them to sample over a bowl (and then a couple more) of hot chips, and the way that the bar slowly emptied around them and it wasn’t until he looked up to see all the staff loitering by the till that he realised they were trying to close and go home.

But most of all, he remembered the sharp sting of the Wellington wind as they stood on the step of his trailer, his gloved hands in his pockets as he’d smiled shyly at Lee and thanked him for taking him out. Lee had stepped forward, nose pink and hair windswept and neck and chin covered by his enormous woollen scarf, taken Richard’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

His lips were soft and careful, moving cautiously against Richard’s. He didn’t pull away in the four or five seconds it took a dazed Richard to respond – like he had known it would take a while to sink in, but that he wouldn’t reject him outright – but hummed in satisfaction as Richard curled his hands around the ends of his scarf and kissed back, just as tentative but knowing in that moment that this was the beginning of something much bigger than he’d anticipated.

Not that Lee let things escalate – instead, just as Richard tried to tug him closer (wondering how warm the skin under that cosy leather jacket was and whether he would get the chance to find out), he pulled away.

“Goodnight, Richard,” he’d murmured, pressing one final kiss to his cheek before he walked away – and Richard had just stood there, fingers to his lips in disbelief, butterflies in his stomach, and unable to stop the gooey, besotted grin spreading over his face.

Richard gave his empty – again – glass a melancholic smile before sliding it back across the bar. “Another, please.”

“You know,” the bartender said carefully, bracing herself on the counter with her hands and leaning forwards, “you’ve been in here the last six nights in a row.”

Had he?

“I’m staying at the hotel across the street.”

“Work trip?” she guessed, before adding, “I hope not – not with what I’ve seen you put away every night.”

“No, not a work trip.”

“Holiday?”

She was just making conversation. It was what she was paid to do.

“Not exactly.”

Oh, damn it. She was there, and she was asking, and maybe it would feel good to talk – even if he couldn’t elaborate on the details.

“I think I’ve just destroyed my relationship with the person I’m pretty sure is the love of my life.”

She eyed him for a long moment.

“Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

The problem with having such a good memory for all Lee-related things meant that the events of last Thursday were also available to him with savagely sharp clarity.

And those – those he did _not_ want to remember.

They had had it so good.

Richard had flown home in the middle of winter to pack up his life and ship it to New York. His parents had been surprised (no, not surprised – astonished) when he’d sprung it on them, but both could grudgingly accept that it was a good career move.

“And,” he’d added, hoping that his face didn’t betray him and the nervous thrumming in his chest, “I’ve even got a place to stay – one of the guys from The Hobbit has an apartment in the city, and he said that I can crash with him until I find somewhere of my own.”

“Well, that’s very generous,” his mother smiled, “is he part of your band of dwarves? I didn’t think any of them were American.”

“Actually, no. His name’s Lee. He plays Thranduil, the elf king – he’s not in this movie much, but he has a much bigger role in the next two.”

“The long-haired blonde one?”

“That’s the one – but it’s a wig, just like Thorin’s hair. He doesn’t normally look like that.” He wanted to show them a picture – he would almost be able to pretend that he was showing off his boyfriend for the first time – but he didn’t have any on his phone, and never had, so they’d had to resort to Google.

“Oh, doesn’t he have a lovely smile,” his mother commented, and Richard had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a beam of his own, “and such kind eyes. Make sure you thank him for letting you stay.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“And make sure you clean up after yourself – it’s been years since you’ve had a flatmate, and I’m sure he won’t appreciate you leaving your things everywhere.”

“ _Yes,_ Mum.”

He’d turned up with a suitcase on each arm, and the speed at which Lee answered when he rang the buzzer told him that he’d been pacing in anticipation all afternoon. And the way that Lee had greeted him – kissing him until he was lightheaded and gasping for breath before luring him into the bedroom ( _their_ bedroom, now) – was definitely not the behaviour of a _flatmate._

And once he’d settled in, unpacked his things, taken over half of Lee’s wardrobe with his extensive collection of shirts – it was domestic bliss.

“By the way, Mum keeps telling me I need to pay you rent,” he commented one morning, passing Lee a dripping breakfast plate to dry and put away, and Lee gave him a dirty grin, snaking his spare arm around Richard’s waist to squeeze his arse.

“Is that so?”

“Technically you _are_ the landlord, after all.”

“Well,” Lee said, in a long-suffering tone, “I mean – it would be a minor inconvenience, but I suppose I _could_ accept payment by way of great sex and as many of your fucking amazing blow jobs as you’re willing to give.”

“Yeah, somehow I think I’ll just keep the details of the arrangement to myself,” he replied drily, savouring the deep laugh he got from Lee in response.

“Actually – you know what?” he said thoughtfully, “I think you’ve fallen behind already.”

“That is really quite unfortunate,” Richard deadpanned, summoning up a concerned expression as he pulled the sink plug out, letting the dishwater drain away (there were more dishes to do, but who cared?), “do you think there’s any chance I could atone for it now?”

“I’d say there’s every chance,” Lee breathed, pupils dilating as Richard reached for the fly of his jeans, popping the button and undoing the zip slowly and then dropping to his knees, all the while maintaining steady eye contact.

“Are you quite sure?” he asked, fingers curling around the waistband of Lee’s jeans and tugging them just far enough down his thighs to expose his rapidly hardening cock.

“Y-yes,” he managed, reaching one hand back to brace himself on the counter while the other slid through Richard’s hair and groaning at the first exploratory lick of his slit, “please, Rich, just suck it.”

“If you insist,” he smirked – and did just as Lee asked.

He dragged it out for as long as he could, and Lee stayed still for as long as _he_ could, but in the end, it panned out exactly as he had expected: Lee gripping the back of his head in both hands and fucking his mouth with resolute thrusts until he came with a groan, the warmth trickling down the back of Richard’s throat.

“How about now,” he asked smugly, noting Lee’s heavy-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, “am I up to date with the rent?”

“Oh, only until tomorrow.”

He had expected the regularity of the sex to settle into something a bit more normal – and physically sustainable – over time, but it had been several months and he still wanted to rip Lee’s clothes off every time he walked in the door. (Most of the time, he actually did.) And it hadn’t got old or predictable or boring in any way – Lee had an impressive arsenal of tricks with which he continued to surprise them both.

Sex and cleaning aside, though, he was still delirious with happiness at how easily they had settled into a perfect little domestic routine in their isolated inner-city oasis.

He loved cooking for Lee whenever he could, trawling through recipes online until he found one he liked, then walking to the supermarket to pick up all the obscure ingredients he required and as much good wine as he could carry. They would spend the evenings eating and drinking, curled up on the couch under a blanket or two, talking and half-watching whatever mindless crap was on TV while it snowed outside.

Winter was kind to them – it gave them an excuse to rug up with hats and scarves until they were practically unidentifiable and roam the streets together. Sometimes, if Richard was feeling particularly bold (and if no one was looking) he would brush his fingers against Lee’s or press a palm to the small of his back. The look of surprise on Lee’s face every time he did it was intoxicating – and it always resulted in great sex as soon as they got home.

_Home._

Lee was home, now.

Richard had been in relationships before (albeit with women) that had lasted longer than this, and yet he’d never felt any desire to move in with them or even progress past dating and sleepovers. Then again, those relationships hadn’t involved the maelstrom of feelings that overwhelmed him in the best way possible whenever he looked at Lee. It was as though being on set and sharing every night they could had acted as a pressure cooker – that, and their terrible separation in the lead up to the first film – that made him appreciate every moment they had together so much more.

He tried not to think about the fact that Lee would be leaving in the not-too-distant future to shoot the pilot for a new show he’d been offered. (However, he was eternally grateful for the short flight time between New York and Atlanta: Lee had promised that he would be home whenever they had more than a day off.) They would cross the bridge of that separation when they came to it.

For now, at least, everything was perfect.

And then, in what felt like a blink of an eye, it had gone so, so wrong.

He hadn’t known at the time, when the problems started, quite how terribly things would escalate. If he had – well. He could have – would have – whirled Lee away for a spontaneous holiday somewhere that no one would ever find or recognise them, keeping away from New York and their jobs and altering their universe in general.

And he wouldn’t be sitting in a bar trying to get drunk by himself to escape the knowledge that he was the biggest fuck-up in the universe.

It had all started two Sundays ago.

It had long been his routine (especially since the move, but more generally since his work had started taking him overseas) to call his parents on Sundays to keep them posted on what he was up to. He was close to them, after all – even if he hadn’t been able to tell them one very important thing.

Until the dam burst.

He regretted it for a second, but – no, they were his parents. They deserved to know. He shouldn’t be keeping secrets from them – especially not this kind of secret.

“Lee is actually not just my flatmate. He, ah… He never has been.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. They knew perfectly well what he meant.

There was a long pause at the other end of the line, and then a sigh, and he didn’t need to see his parents to know that they were looking at each other in exasperation and despair.

It filled him with dread.

“Oh, dear,” his mother said, her tone resigned, “I thought we’d moved on from all of that.”

“All of… what exactly?” He felt a sudden stab of vindictive pleasure at forcing her to articulate it.

“The, ah… the liking men business.”

He remembered clearly the day (November 18, to be exact) that he’d sat down with them some twenty years ago and told them. They had been mildly horrified, but on the whole accepting – or so it seemed at the time. It became painfully evident over the following years, however, that they regarded the whole thing as a phase that he would one day grow out of: he would wake up one day, realise that all he’d ever wanted was a wife, and promptly go and acquire one. So he’d shied away from the topic of relationships altogether (and had certainly never introduced a boyfriend to his parents) and – well, maybe he had let them jump to the conclusion that he’d moved on. He’d definitely not done anything to correct them.

And now he was here, blurting it all out on the spur of the moment.

“We – no. It’s not something you can really ‘move on’ from, Mum.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” his dad sighed, and Richard realised that his free hand had curled into a fist of its own volition, his fingernails digging bluntly into his palm.

“Don’t swear,” his mother said automatically, “but Richard, really…”

Maybe he had hoped, at some subconscious level, that they would be okay with it.

But they weren’t.

Perhaps they never would be.

Perhaps they’d decide that a gay son (even a moderately famous, moderately wealthy one) wasn’t worth the burden, and cut him off completely. They wouldn’t do it obviously, of course – no, it would be a subtle process, the Sunday afternoon phone conversations becoming fewer and further between, the holiday invitations slowly drying up, until he woke up one day to realise that he hadn’t heard from his parents in a year. And he knew – he just knew – that he would spend every day after that asking himself the same thing: was it worth it?

And he was terrified that in five, ten, fifty years’ time, the answer wouldn’t be an unequivocal yes.

And that was clearly going to pose one hell of a problem.

The second thing – well, that wasn’t his fault.

Not really.

He would blame Sarah.

She’d invited him out for dinner, and he’d said yes – they got on well, after all, and he was looking forward to hearing about the holiday in Spain she’d just had with her sister. He’d mentioned it to Lee in passing, but he was going out with some old friends from Juilliard that night, and had just given him a kiss on the forehead and said he’d see him whenever he got in.

Sarah knew him well enough to know that he would be early for dinner, and to know that he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. The table was booked under his name, so he stretched out his legs and ordered a glass of wine and scanned the menu lazily until –

“Richard?”

“Yes?” he said carefully, his polite public smile on his face – but the next words out of her mouth weren’t what he was expecting at all.

“Sarah told me she was meant to be meeting you, but her apartment’s flooded and she’s in full-on crisis mode, so… she sent me on her behalf. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “please, sit.”

Sure enough, there was a text from Sarah on his phone, saying that she couldn’t make it and that Laura would keep him company instead.

At the end of the message, there was a winking face.

Oh.

It was _that_ kind of dinner.

He wondered if she had been conspiring with Amanda, and decided he couldn’t discount the theory. They both told him (sometimes in tandem, which was even worse) that he needed to get out there and play the field and find someone nice. “An Englishman in New York?” Sarah teased. “Please, you’ll be fighting them off with a stick.”

Laura was an actress, fresh off the boat from Ireland. A few probing questions established that she did in fact know another girl named Sarah – Aidan’s ex. The one who’d broken things off with him because she’d realised he was in love with Dean before he did.

Not that that was a topic he had any interest in bringing up. (Plus, the fact remained that discussing male Hobbit co-stars with a tendency to fall in love with each other hit a little too close to home.)

The evening passed easily enough – Laura was friendly and full of compliments – but that didn’t mean he wanted to linger over a final drink. It was nearly eleven, but Lee had texted him early on to say that two of his friends hadn’t been able to make it, so the group had decided to delay their wild night out for a couple of weeks. This, of course, meant that Lee was at home, probably cooking a late dinner, skating around the polished wooden floors in his socks and bellowing along to trashy 80s music (most likely while wearing headphones so no one else could hear said music, which Richard had concluded was literally one of the funniest things he had seen and heard in his life).

Yes, he was anxious to get home.

So anxious, in fact, that it wasn’t until he had helped Laura into her coat and held the door for her and opened his umbrella for them both to shelter under (he wouldn’t let the lack of physical attraction prevent him from being a gentleman, after all) that he noticed the loitering paparazzi.

“Richard! Hey – Richard!”

It didn’t happen to him a lot, though the frequency had increased since the first movie had come out – and of course they would find him tonight, when he was having dinner with a woman who could, in the eyes of the public, be a potential love interest.

And he hadn’t thought to book a car to take him home.

So there wasn’t one waiting for him.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he murmured to Laura, having to lean in close so she could hear over the small group vying for his attention, “there’s a taxi rank a block away.”

“I’m friends with Sarah,” she countered with a small smile, “believe me, I’m used to it.”

The rain picked up and he stepped closer to Laura, unconsciously resting a hand on the small of her back so they could both squeeze under the umbrella. He should have considered that the action would just prompt a further frenzy, the paparazzi jogging along beside them, all jostling for pictures and answers to their questions – which, naturally, all related to Laura.

“Thank Christ,” he muttered under his breath as they finally reached the rank, a lone taxi waiting there with its lights on. Of course, he realised belatedly that getting into the same cab to go home would just add fuel to the fire – then again, he wasn’t going to leave Laura there by herself and even if there was another cab, he wouldn’t even consider putting her in it and making her pay for her own trip home. It wasn’t her fault that the evening had ended like it had.

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek when they pulled up outside her apartment, told him she’d had a good time and that Sarah had her number if he was interested.

He wasn’t.

Not as interested as he should have been, anyway.

He spent the rest of the drive (and it was a long drive, since he’d told the driver to take the most roundabout route possible) staring out the window and brooding, something cold and anxious in the pit of his stomach – at what, he wasn’t entirely sure – and worrying about the pictures.

They were online the next day: ‘Hobbit star Richard Armitage spotted with mystery brunette.’

And, fuck it, they looked good.

He and Laura looked good.

Both dark haired and pale skinned, the greens and blues of his scarf complementing her dangling earrings and the hem of her dress visible under her coat– almost like they’d coordinated outfits before what was so clearly a date.

The picture taken just as they left the restaurant was the best (or worst, depending on how you looked at it): his head bent as he spoke to her, her eyes downcast but a small, secretive smile playing around the corners of her mouth. Somehow, he’d tried to be polite but overshot the mark entirely and instead came off as enamoured.

It was not a look he wanted to see on his own face in pictures that were available to the entire world.

But it was too damn late.

(And of course his mother would ring him – even if he didn’t answer – to leave a cooing message about how lovely the two of them looked together, because one of her friends’ daughters had seen the pictures and had clearly done her best to disseminate them as widely as physically possible, ending the voicemail with yet another oblique reference to the ‘problem’ that was Lee.)

He deleted the message, and appreciated the fact that Lee hated the gossip sites and made a point of literally never checking them – which meant he would never find out about Laura. After all, no one would raise it with him directly, because no one knew that he and Richard were together in the first place.

That was just the way things had to be.

And the third thing – well, that turned out to be the breaking point.

But it all came back to the same problem: his life would be so much fucking _easier_ if he was a nice, normal, heterosexual male.

He inspected the bartender more closely. For the first time that evening – no, all week – he realised she was good looking.

More than good looking.

Something told him it would not be difficult for him to hang around until the bar closed, take her back to his hotel room, pull on her ponytail and bruise her neck with kisses and fuck her up against the wall, pinned in place by his unrelenting arms and her legs wrapped around his waist.

He could do that.

But one key fact remained.

She wasn’t Lee.

And, really, that told him everything.

Whether Lee wanted anything to do with him ever again, though, was another question.

Because the fallout – when it came – had been catastrophic.

“I brought Chinese,” Richard had announced, pushing the front door open with one hand, straining plastic bags of dinner wrapped around the other, “how was your day?”

“It – well.”

Lee sounded anxious, and more than a little guilty, but Richard was too preoccupied with unpacking the food to really notice the tone. “Interviews go well?”

“They, um – yeah, they were good.”

“Good,” Richard echoed happily, collecting plates and forks and glasses so they could assemble their lazy dinner. It wasn’t until he’d set them down that he looked at Lee – properly – and something icy and unpleasant settled in the pit of his stomach at the expression on his face.

“What is it?” he said cautiously, not entirely sure that he wanted to know and concerned by his inability to categorise the emotion that Lee was radiating. 

There was a long, anxious silence that only reiterated to Richard that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Lee was going to tell him something, and it would be a bombshell that changed everything.

“I may have implied to a journalist that I was in a relationship, and she may have indicated pretty strongly that that’s going to be the angle for the article.”

And there it was.

“You _what_?” Richard breathed, a tentative part of his brain hoping against hope that Lee was joking, but the sensible remainder knowing that he wasn’t. “Lee – how could you?”

“It just slipped out,” he said miserably, looking down at his hands, “she was asking about what I do when I’m not filming and what I’d been up to since coming back from New Zealand and it just…happened. I don’t know. I don’t remember the exact question, or exactly what I said, but it was enough – too much. And she latched onto it, of course, so no matter how much I wanted to take it back…”

“Right,” Richard responded, still reeling. Of all the things to say – or even allude to – in an interview, for god’s sake, this had to be one of the worst. And of course the journalist wouldn’t let it go – it gave her a new angle, after all. Lee Pace opens up about his relationship – the one that _no one in the world previously knew existed._

“I didn’t say anything about you,” Lee pleaded, “I swear, I didn’t even say it was a man. But, you know… Maybe this is a good thing – easing us into the public eye and all that jazz. If the world knows we’re both in relationships, then maybe it won’t be such a shock when they find out those relationships are with each other.”

Richard was struck dumb with disbelief. “How the hell could you ever think this is a good thing? Telling a journalist about us? Christ, Lee, what were you _thinking_?”

Finally, Lee looked up, frustration and – yes, possibly – anger flaring in his eyes. “I wasn’t thinking, okay? And if I had been – hell, maybe I was thinking that I’m in love with you, and I want to shout it from the rooftops because you’re so special to me, and why should we spend the rest of our lives hiding for fear of what people might think? My parents –”

He stopped, abruptly, like he realised he’d said too much, and now there was an ache in Richard’s chest as well as the icy block in his stomach. “You told them, too.”

“It just –”

“I swear to god, Lee, don’t tell me it ‘just slipped out.’”

“They were asking about my plans for Thanksgiving, because I haven’t been able to see them over the holidays for the last couple of years. I told them I was going to come to Texas this year. We always try to organise it months in advance so we can get everyone in the same place at the same time. And yeah, maybe you did come up in the course of that conversation, and maybe I told them that I met this amazing man in New Zealand who I’m living with, and –”

“And _what,_ Lee?”

“And maybe they invited you for Thanksgiving, too, because they could tell even from that one fucking conversation how much I love you and they want to meet you.”

Richard closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Right, and how many other people have you shared our relationship with without deigning to tell me?” he asked, frustration lacing his tone. Why was Lee not getting this? How could he not understand how critically important it was to keep things like this close to their chests?

He could have done without this. It felt like things with Lee were still so new and fragile – even though they were living together – and he was terrified that everything would fall apart if anyone else became privy to this wonderful little thing they had going.

He couldn’t let that happen.

But Lee had jumped the gun in the worst way possible.

“No one, Rich – they’re my parents, come on. We’re close. I couldn’t not tell them.”

Richard carefully ignored the fact that he had done exactly the same thing that he was now complaining about, and for largely the same reasons. But Lee was openly gay, for crying out loud, and his parents knew that and were entirely okay with it. It wasn’t like that for Richard. He had to introduce the idea to his parents gently, slowly, let them get accustomed to it. But Lee – telling his family that he was in a relationship was in a different league entirely, and the seriousness it connoted made Richard very nervous.

And that was why – hell, there couldn’t have been any other good reason – he opened his mouth again.

“You know what I did on the weekend? I went on a date. With a woman.”

Lee looked like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“And it was nice, and easy,” Richard continued, like a runaway train, “because I could be in public and enjoy a nice meal and not have to spend the whole time looking over my shoulder, terrified that I was going to be found out because god forbid I be anything other than _normal._ ”

“Who was she?” Lee whispered.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

“Her name is Laura, and she’s a friend of Sarah’s.” He was so intent on punishing Lee for being such a damn fool that he left out the most important detail – that the dinner was meant to be with Sarah, but she’d stood him up. “She’s Irish, and beautiful, and easy to talk to, and exactly the sort of woman that I should be dating.”

He left out, too, the fact that he hadn’t been attracted to her in the slightest – he could appreciate her looks, because he wasn’t blind, but there was nothing about her that appealed to him in a more than platonic sense.

“I see,” Lee said softly, eyes now fixed on his feet. “You know, if this isn’t what you want – if you’d rather take the easy and publicly acceptable way out – I’m sure she’d be happy to take you in.”

“Really? That’s it? You wouldn’t care?”

“I love you, Rich, but I’m not going to force you to stay if you’d rather not.”

“Well, maybe I should go, then,” he said, just to be spiteful, wholly unprepared for Lee’s response.

“Yeah, maybe you should.”

Well, that was not exactly how he had expected the conversation – hell, the evening – to pan out. But the way that Lee was looking at him – like he’d just crushed all his dreams without a second thought, and had enjoyed doing so – made him want to run and not look back.

So that was what he did.

Hurling some necessities into the first bag he pulled down from the top of the wardrobe, he slammed out of the apartment (without making eye contact with Lee and leaving the long-forgotten Chinese cold on the table) and threw himself into the first taxi he saw.

“I’m looking for a hotel – preferably nowhere near here. And it has to have a good bar nearby.”

It wasn’t much to go on, but then again, New York cabbies’ knowledge of their city was encyclopaedic.

The driver gave him a toothy smile in the rear view mirror. “I know nice place.”


	2. Chapter 2

“And here I am,” he finished with a sigh. Somewhere along the line, most of the other patrons had left the premises – the kitchen having closed some time ago – and the bartender had completely abandoned any pretence of work. She had actually unscrewed the pourer from the scotch, and the whole bottle was sitting in front of him – then again, he’d probably drunk most of it himself over the course of the past six evenings anyway. He wasn’t sure if he’d been swigging straight from it as he told his story (albeit carefully – he wasn’t naming names, and he’d tried to keep the whole gender issue out of it) but it was entirely possible.

The trouble was, he still felt stone-cold sober and awash with misery.

“Maybe I should just call it a day and go home.”

“Home?” the bartender repeated. “You mean the hotel?”

“No, I mean London.”

Maybe the whole thing – moving across the world for someone he’d known for such a short time – had been insane from the get go. Maybe they were always doomed to fail. Maybe it was all Richard’s fault, but then again, that wouldn’t be a big surprise – to him, or to anyone else.

Plus, his parents would be thrilled – not only about the fact that he was back, but that he’d shed that pesky male lover who was just going to cause problem after problem.

“You’ve got to be joking,” she said accusingly, “you had one fight – _one fight_ – and you want to pack it all in? You – no. That’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Let me see if I’ve understood everything you’ve said,” she said, ticking the points off on her fingers as she went.” You’re dating someone, and it’s serious, and you’re in love with them. But your parents don’t approve, for some reason, and would rather you picked someone else. And this person told their parents about the relationship – much like you did, I might add – and accidentally told someone else as well but didn’t go into any detail. Do you really think that merits calling it all off and scuttling back to England?”

“If the relationship is over, there’s not that much point staying here,” he noted, but she wasn’t buying that, either.

“Who said the relationship is over? Have you even talked to them since you left?”

“No,” he admitted. The hours he spent sitting on the edge of the hotel bed after returning from the bar every night, staring at his phone and trying to work out if he should call, didn’t count if he never actually pressed the button. Then again, it wasn’t as if Lee had made the effort, either. “I’m not sure if there’s any point. I don’t think I’m going to be forgiven this time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so goddamn dramatic.”

He couldn’t bring himself to mind the attitude – it was probably exactly what he needed, and was certainly a welcome alternative to drowning in his own gloomy thoughts.

“I feel like I’ve spent our whole relationship taking but never giving anything back – and this was just the tipping point. It was probably going to happen sooner or later.”

“Right – and you have no interest in trying to fix this mess and giving things another go? You’d rather just quit now and move on, despite insisting that you love them? Just – imagine, for a minute, what your life would be like without this person, since it really doesn’t sound like you’ve put much thought into it at all.”

Richard did.

They were the first positive thoughts he’d had all week.

He thought about the lightheaded happiness that he woke up with every morning, and the way he found himself smiling at nothing all the time, so much that it made his cheeks hurt. He thought about the way his boyfriend looked at him: the giddy disbelief when he thought Richard wasn’t paying attention, the eye-crinkling smiles when he attempted a joke, the overwhelming love and affection when they were in bed together. He thought about the fact that everything seemed to have slotted into place, like there had been something missing from his life this whole time and he’d found it in Lee.

And when he tried to imagine his life without him, it was like staring into a void – a world bleached of all colour and joy. It made him realise just how lonely he had been before.

With one phone call, Peter Jackson had changed his life in more ways than one.

And, fuck it, he could never go back to the way things were before – whatever the cost.

“Shit,” he breathed, at the realisation, and the bartender just grinned in satisfaction.

“Do you see it now?”

“I can’t live without him,” he concluded, shaking his head in disbelief. Christ, he was an asshole. It was the first time all week that he’d seriously considered the fact that he was the one in the wrong, not Lee – and somehow, he was going to have to try and make it up to him.

And then he realised, too late, that the words he’d just spoken without thinking might have just given the game away entirely.

Sure enough, she tipped her head to one side curiously. Of course she would have noticed the slip – and of course he would end up paying for it. “Him?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, suddenly extremely interested in the scratched wood of the bar and the remnants of the melted ice in the bottom of his glass, because there was no way he could get himself out of this one now, and he was officially the biggest fucking idiot ever and he’d just ruined his whole career and probably life (and even the knowledge that he couldn’t – wouldn’t – give Lee up didn’t detract from the horror of accidentally confessing his disgusting tendencies to a stranger), “him.”

But she didn’t react how he was expecting her to (not that he could even articulate what he’d thought would happen – he just knew it wasn’t this).

“I remember when my sister came out,” she said gently, “our parents went nuts. They basically refused to accept it, didn’t speak about it, wouldn’t let her hang out with friends outside of school for fear that she was sleeping with them… It was completely unreasonable, but I think they just hadn’t seen it coming and couldn’t deal with it.”

Richard had raised his head very slowly as she spoke, and by the time she had finished, he could meet her eyes again.

“And then what happened?”

“We had a huge shouting match with them and she basically told them to get over themselves because she was gay and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. I mean, it was terrible at the time, and I really thought they were going to throw her out… but a couple of months later her girlfriend was coming over most weeks for family dinners. It was pretty awkward to begin with, but somehow we all got through it. And our parents realised that her girlfriend was pretty great. And they’re still together, despite everything,” she shrugged, “three years next month.”

He felt the smallest glimmer of hope spark in his chest. Could it be that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, after all?

“So… They forgave her in the end?”

The bartender gave him an odd look. “They – no. There was nothing to forgive. She didn’t need to apologise for being who she is. She, on the other hand, forgave _them_ for being closed-minded and bigoted.”

He mulled that over for a few long, confused minutes – it seemed to contradict everything he’d ever believed – until she broke the silence.

“So – the person that you’re in love with is a man. I guess that explains why your parents aren’t happy with your decision?”

“I think to say that they aren’t happy is a bit of an understatement,” he said drily, recalling the casual homophobic slurs that slipped into conversation at his parents’ house without either of them realising, and taking another slug of scotch. Yes, he was – and had been – drinking it straight from the bottle. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Right – they’d rather you found a nice lady friend.”

“Something like that.”

“And what do you want?”

“I want him,” he responded, without thinking twice. The conclusion came so naturally that he wondered how he’d ever doubted it in the first place.

“You know,” she told him, “if you spend your whole life doing what you think will make other people happy, you’re going to be miserable.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

“You’re supposed to tell your parents that this is who you are and he is who you love and if they don’t like either of those facts, they can suck it,” she said with a grin. “They’re your parents – it might take them a while, but they’ll get there, just like mine did. And if they don’t, then to be honest, you might be better off without them in your life.”

He felt like he should be scandalised by the conclusion that she’d reached, but somehow he wasn’t. “So… You’re telling me to choose him over my parents?”

“No,” she corrected, “I’m telling you to choose your happiness over, well, everything else. And if he’s what makes you happy…”

Well, there was no doubt about that one. There never really had been.

“I’ve really fucked things up, haven’t I?” he asked with a defeated sigh.

She just shrugged, knowing he didn’t really want an honest answer, prising the bottle of scotch out of his desperate grip and putting it back on the shelf, out of his reach. Pity – a bit more liquid courage probably wouldn’t have gone amiss. “Only one way to find out.”

“There’s no way he’s going to want to listen to anything I have to say,” he protested, but once again it fell on deaf ears.

“Only one way to find out,” she repeated, “go on. You know what you have to do.”

“Grovel,” he acknowledged. The prospect of Lee slamming the door in his face was all too real and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“No – it’s not grovelling. It’s just telling the truth. You’re scared, but you love him, and you want to find a way to make it work.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he whined morosely – but she just shook her head at his stubbornness. “It _is_ so easy. Plus, it sounds like he loves you, too. He’s not going to give up on you that fast.”

Lee _did_ love him. He knew that like he knew his own name. That, too, stoked the warmth in his chest.

“You’re strangely invested in this,” he noted idly, worrying for a second – but just a second – that she was going to run off to the press and tell them everything. But she’d never given any indication that she had any idea who he was, and he felt curiously optimistic that that was in fact the case.

“Yeah, because I’ve seen how goddamn miserable you’ve looked every night this week and you clearly need someone to talk some sense into you before you fuck things up permanently. You love him, he loves you; that’s all there is to it. Now go, before I physically drag you out and put you in a taxi myself.”

At that, he managed a genuine laugh for the first time all week, the sound unfamiliar as it burst out of his mouth. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”

“And I expect to see you back here in the next few days for an update,” she warned him, accepting the large bundle of notes that he tipped onto the counter, emptying his wallet in the process (fuck it, who cared? It was only money) and shooing him out the door.

The wintry air hit him like a slap in the face as he stepped onto the street – he’d spent so long in the comfortably warm bar that he’d forgotten about the temperature outside – but it did nothing to dampen the determined little fire in his chest.

He could do this. He could fix everything. (At least, he could try, and hope to Christ that it was enough for Lee to begin to forgive him for what was, in retrospect, fairly appalling behaviour.)

Starting now – and in the most logical place.

“Mum,” he barked down the phone, tucked into an alley to escape the worst of the icy wind. He had the time difference down pat – it was an odd time to call, admittedly, but not so odd that she would assume it was an emergency and panic.

“Richard?”

He took a deep, calming breath – summoning up a reassuring mental image of Lee’s smile – and then he said it.

“I’m in love with him.”

“With – with that – Lee?”

“Yes, with that Lee. I love him. This is it, Mum.”

“Oh, Richard –”

“No,” he interrupted, “just – don’t. This is who I am, and he is who I love, and you need to accept that because he’s going to be a part of my life for the long haul.”

She choked. “Are you – you haven’t – did you _elope_?”

At that, he couldn’t help but laugh. (He wasn’t sure if she was more horrified by the thought of him marrying a man or the thought of him getting married, period, without notifying the family.) “We did not elope. We are not engaged. We have no plans to get married, even if it were possible.”

His third point wasn’t _entirely_ true (not that those early morning musings about the long term were something he was ready to share with Lee for months, if not years) but that was definitely not something his mother needed to know – not now, and probably not for a long time.

Besides, he didn’t want to be held responsible for her keeling over from a heart attack.

“Oh,” she muttered, “well, ah, that’s good.” A pause. “But what about that Laura? She was very pretty, and you did look good together…”

“Mum, I am not attracted to Laura. She is the wrong gender. She is the wrong _person._ I love Lee. This is non-negotiable.” He stopped to draw breath and gather his courage. “And if you can’t accept that, then…”

“I just want what’s best for you, darling.”

“ _Lee_ is what’s best for me,” he fired back, his voice softening at the admission. “He makes me so happy, Mum.”

He could practically see her frowning, casting around for a suitable response. “Well, we don’t need to sort this out now.” Like there was still some decision to be made – let alone a decision into which his parents should have any input – when nothing could be further from the truth. “Maybe we can talk about it when you next visit – you mentioned November?”

His response slipped out so easily, it was like he’d already subconsciously made the decision. “Actually, November’s no good anymore.”

“Oh? Have you got a new project lined up?”

“No, I still have some time off, but Lee’s family have invited me for Thanksgiving in Texas so we’ll be spending it there.”

There was a long pause.

“It really is serious?”

“ _Yes,_ Mum.”

“I see.”

And once the conversation had ended – she had veered it towards matters that were slightly less inflammatory – he wondered, for the first time, if maybe she was starting to.

It was like a weight had lifted off his shoulders.

And it spurred him on, his heart racing in his chest in the most astonishing and exhilarating of ways; a high that he’d never known could exist.

His next call went straight through to voicemail, which was much easier (though he spared a thought for Amanda, having to listen to his rambling. She would be _furious_ with him for hiding things from her for so long – but hopefully less so about his life decisions).

“It’s Richard. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m not just living with Lee while I find my footing in New York. I’m living with him because we’re together. We’re in a relationship. I’m in love with him. I have been… well, for a while. It started when we were filming. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier – I didn’t tell anyone.” And he hadn’t. Christ, he was pathetic – the sorriest excuse for a boyfriend to ever exist. “We’re not planning on broadcasting it to the world – yet – I don’t think, but, um… I promise to do a better job of keeping you in the loop from now on. But I really, really love him. And, ah, sorry. Call me tomorrow? Um, I hope you’re having a good night. Okay. Thanks. Bye.”

Hanging up with his left hand, he flung out his right, a taxi materialising seconds later. It was only once he was in and homeward bound that he remembered all his belongings were still at the hotel (and the key card was still in his pocket).

Not that he really cared at all.

He felt like he didn’t deserve to use his key to the apartment – the act seemed invasive, considering that he’d not spoken to Lee for nearly a week, and it was his place, after all. So he stood outside the door (he’d let himself into the building, at least, because this was not a conversation he wanted to have over the intercom), his euphoric relief suddenly tempered with nerves, and knocked – and knocked, and knocked.

And eventually, Lee opened the door.

He looked _haunted._

His head was bowed, face pale, bags under his eyes, arms hanging listlessly at his sides. His hair was a disaster, and he was wearing the old clothes he reserved for the times he needed comforting. He seemed to have given up.

“Have you come to get the rest of your things?” he asked, and his tone was as dull as his expression.

Richard had done that to him.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever hated himself quite as much as he did in that moment.

“No, I’ve come to tell you that I’m a fucking idiot and I never want to lose you.”

He stepped into Lee’s space and tilted his head, reaching for his mouth, because god – a week without kissing him now that they were living together felt like an eternity.

But Lee deflected the embrace, turning his head to one side, his eyes narrowed. “But you didn’t bring your bag.”

“Yeah, it was sort of a spur of the moment thing,” he said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment.

“Oh, I get it.” Lee laughed, the sound bitter and sharp and so unlike his real laugh that Richard recoiled. “This is a booty call.”

“How can you even –”

“You stink of booze, Rich. You’re drunk. What, did you get lonely and decide you’d swing by for a quick fuck to scratch the itch before walking out again?”

“You told me to leave,” he reminded Lee, unable to decide whether he wanted to shout or cry at his allegations. Did he really think so little of him? “I just… I want to apologise.” He stepped forward again. “Let me make it up to you.”

_“Don’t.”_

The word came out in a whisper, Lee’s face twisted in pain as he shook his head insistently.

“Lee, I –”

“Don’t think that this is something you can just fix with sex,” he continued, finishing his sentence like Richard had never tried to interrupt.

“It’s not – I –” 

Lee stepped away with a sigh. “I think we need to talk. You should come in.”

Richard followed him to the couch (he’d never felt quite so much like a guest in their apartment) and didn’t object when Lee kept his distance, not leaning against the armrest and putting his feet in Richard’s lap like he always did. His whole body was radiating caution and distrust, from the folded arms to the still feet to the determined set of his jaw.

There was only one place to start.

“It wasn’t really a date.”

Lee didn’t look at him, didn’t react in any way, so he ploughed on, desperate to make him understand. “I was meant to be having dinner with Sarah, but she couldn’t make it, so she sent Laura instead. It – well, okay, it kind of was a date, but she set me up. You know how she and Amanda are always talking about how I need to put myself out there.”

“And did you enjoy it?”

“She was nice,” he said carefully, but Lee just rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I was not attracted to her. I did not want to kiss her, let alone do anything else. I did not want a relationship with her. Is that the answer you’re looking for?”

“You sure fucking looked like you wanted to kiss her,” Lee sniped in what was clearly disbelief. Yes, Richard was going to have to spend a long time trying to fix this one – assuming, of course, that Lee actually gave him the chance to do so.

“I swear to you, I didn’t. We were just two people having a platonic dinner. I didn’t do anything, and I didn’t feel anything. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about this.”

“Yeah? Because here’s the thing, Richard. I found the pictures online – hell, I’ve spent the last week doing nothing but stare at them. And the fact remains that you were so much more comfortable being seen on a date – and I mean a real date – with her than you’ve ever been in public at all with me. Don’t you remember that time we tried going to the grocery store together?”

He didn’t answer – but he didn’t need to.

Of course he remembered.

It was meant to be a continuation of the little domestic bubble they were living in. Richard was probably the only man in the world who had fantasies about going grocery shopping with his other half – but the idea of being able to stroll around in broad daylight with Lee, arms looped around each other’s waists or hands in each other’s back pockets, not caring who saw them or what anyone thought, was still a distant and somewhat frightening dream.

Richard had been distracted by the selection of nice cheeses, and had barely noticed Lee forging ahead of him, list in hand. He was trying to choose between gruyere and gouda (the correct answer was probably both) when he heard the little squeal – and when he looked up, he saw that Lee had made some friends: a small group of teenage girls who desperately wanted photos with him.

Photos.

Lee.

Richard.

_Together._

He couldn’t let that happen.

He broke out in a cold sweat, feeling dampness tingle and gather along his hairline and in his palms. “Forgot my wallet,” he muttered to the girl behind the counter before sidling away and walking out of the shop as calmly as he could. His fingers shook as he reached for his hat and sunglasses and he was grateful for the fact that he was sporting a fairly full beard – no one would recognise him, not here.

Unless they did.

He broke into what he hoped looked like a casual jog (wishing he was wearing clothes that were slightly more suited to exercise) which morphed into a sprint as soon as he was far enough away from the exit to not draw more attention to himself. He ran as fast as he could for six blocks, only slowing when he spotted an idling taxi on the other side of the road – and it was only once he was safely inside and the driver had merged into the traffic that he let himself sigh in complete and utter relief.

_To: Lee  
I’ll meet you at home._

It hadn’t been his proudest moment. But it had never been mentioned again – and maybe that had been a mistake.

“You just looked so happy with her,” Lee repeated, “and you got into the same cab – and then what? Because you were home pretty late that night, Rich, and I’m not an idiot.”

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, fingers of icy dread wrapping themselves around Richard’s throat. “Nothing happened. I didn’t go home with her – and I definitely didn’t sleep with her. I would never do that to you. The cab dropped her off, and I got the driver to take me the long way home, because I needed to think, and you know me inside out and you would have been able to tell, straight away, that something was wrong.”

Lee didn’t believe him – that much was painfully obvious.

“I would never do that to you,” he repeated, “you trust me that much, right?”

“I do trust you,” Lee acknowledged, “so I’ll take your word for it, but I also know you, and I know that this isn’t an issue that’s going to go away. For as long as you’re not ready to tell anyone we’re together, things like this are going to happen. You’re going to keep realising how much easier it is for you to be with a woman, and you’re going to keep being set up on blind dates, and you’re going to keep being photographed. And it’s not that I’m angry with you or think you’re being irrational for any of this,” he added, holding up a hand to stop the objections that both of them knew were coming, “but you’ve never given me any indication that you’re ready to take this thing we have further. It’s all new to you. I understand that. I’ve spent this whole time trying not to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with. And I love you – _god,_ do I love you – but I don’t know if –”

Richard knew, at some instinctual level, what was coming, and he didn’t want to hear it. But Lee was on a roll, venting all these issues that maybe they should have discussed sooner and deeper and there was no way he was going to stop to listen to Richard’s pleas.

The shrill ring of Richard’s phone, however, _would_ prompt him to pause.

“Christ,” Richard muttered, a mix of frustration and relief at the interruption, pulling it from his pocket and seeing Amanda’s name on the screen. Definitely not a conversation he wanted to be having right now – especially since, if things were heading where he thought they were heading, by morning there mightn’t be anything to discuss at all. Sending her call to voicemail, he turned off his phone and back to Lee’s troubled face. “Sorry – keep going.”

“You should have taken that,” he said softly, “she wouldn’t ring you at this time of night if it wasn’t urgent.”

“She’s just calling me back because I left her a voicemail before telling her that I was in love with you.”

Whatever response Lee had been expecting, it clearly wasn’t that. It stopped him in his tracks, his mouth opening and closing almost comically as he tried to process Richard’s words. “You – what?”

“After I called Mum, that is, to tell her the same thing and that she and Dad need to accept me for who I am… and that I won’t be seeing them in November like we’d planned because I’ll be with you.”

Lee just stared. “Rich, you can’t just say stuff like that to me, and then – damn it, this is the cruellest joke imaginable, and if you’re not being serious, I swear to god…”

“I _am_ serious,” he said earnestly, shifting closer and covering Lee’s hands with his. This time, he didn’t pull back, and Richard saw that as a very promising sign. “I love you, Lee. I do. I know I’m doing a fucking miserable job of this relationship and that the last week has been hell for me – and apparently for you too, because no offence, but you look terrible – but I’m trying. I’m really trying. Because I can’t imagine my life without you and I can’t go back to how things were before and Christ, Lee, you make me so happy, and I love you so much, even if I’m not the best at showing it because I keep upsetting you, and I’m so sorry, and –”

Lee kissed him.

“Hmph,” he said, against Lee’s lips, and he pulled away. “You’re not still talking, are you?”

“I think you could convince me to stop.”

“Noted.”

And he kissed him again.

Richard melted back against the couch, letting Lee crowd his space and overpower him, straddling his lap and letting his knees bracket his hips, and take everything he wanted because – Christ, he would give this man the world if it meant he could continue to call him his.

The kisses were wet and messy but Richard relished the slick sounds and the way that Lee pushed his tongue into his mouth forcefully, licking away the dull burn of the scotch and replacing it with the heady taste of home. It wasn’t until he broke the kiss to draw breath, burying his face in Richard’s shoulder and sucking down lungsful of air, that Richard noticed the new dampness on his skin and realised where it had come from.

“Don’t,” he breathed, aghast, “please don’t. I’m sorry.”

Lee managed a wet laugh, wiping his face with the back of one hand. “You’d think I would have run out of liquid to cry by now.”

“I’m sorry,” Richard repeated, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against Lee’s, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He would say it every minute for the rest of his life if he had to.

“I know you are – and I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

“Please don’t give up on me,” he pleaded, the finality in Lee’s tone sending a prickle of fear down his spine. Lee just sighed, the sound hitching in his throat with a little hiccup as he scrubbed at his face more forcefully.

“Goddamnit, Richard, I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. But this – it hurt. It really hurt.” The pain on Lee’s face was clear as day, and not even his concession dulled the edge of Richard’s guilt. “The first real issue we have, and you freak out and run and disappear for a week. I still have no idea where you were or what you were doing.”

“I went to a hotel,” he admitted, “but I spent most of the time at the bar across the road, depleting their scotch supplies.”

“You don’t even drink scotch.”

“Only when I’m miserable.”

“Oh, Rich.” Lee sighed again, shifting off his lap, and Richard missed the contact immediately. There was another question hanging in the air, but he wasn’t going to push it. Lee would ask when he was ready.

Thankfully, Richard already knew all the answers.

Maybe he always had.

And maybe he was an idiot for not spelling that out earlier.

“You didn’t make any… friends,” Lee asked delicately, looking at his lap, like he didn’t want to know the answer or see Richard’s face as he confessed, “who were more suited to your image?”

“If you’re asking if I slept with any women, the answer is no.”

“Did you think about it?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to lie to Lee, not now.

“Why didn’t you do it, then?”

“Because, fuck it – no matter what hell rains down on me for this, I love you, and only you, and I don’t want anyone else and to be honest, I’m not sure that I ever will. Maybe that’s insane, but it’s true.”

“It is insane,” Lee conceded, “and yet I feel exactly the same way.”

This time it was Richard who leaned in, and Lee let him. He wrapped one arm around Lee’s waist, his other hand grasping his shoulder for leverage, but this time kept the kisses light and sweet, lavishing attention on the dip of Lee’s cupid’s bow and his full bottom lip.

They both knew full well that Richard could happily occupy himself like this for hours, and for a few minutes at least he thought that Lee was going to let him.

Until he pulled away again.

“There’s something I have to tell you, too,” he said, and Richard’s heart sank. After everything – what more could there be?

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s not bad news. It’s – well. I called Josie the day after you left and told her what had happened with that interview I did. Yeah, I know – telling more people after we’d just fought about it. I’m an asshole, I get it. But it was the only thing I could think of that would help. Anyway, it turns out that she knows the journalist from way back, so… she managed to convince her to drop that part of the story. She’s changed the angle completely. I think Josie is going to be forever in her debt, but – it’s done.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Richard countered automatically, latching onto the easiest part of Lee’s little speech. “But how did Josie react to – you know? Us?”

“She squealed and said we’re adorable and invited herself around for dinner next week.”

It would be the first time that they actually presented themselves as a couple to anyone else in the world. It filled him with terror – maybe it would take a while for that to go away – but, for the first time, that fear was overlaid with something that felt suspiciously like excitement and relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed. Lee telling his publicist – well, it made sense, especially now. “I know that’s not what you want to hear – you don’t want me to tell you I’m grateful that our relationship isn’t going to be publicised like that, but I am.”

“I know,” Lee sighed, “but I think we need to talk about this seriously – work out exactly what we are, what we can be, how we’re going to manage things media-wise in the future. She and Amanda can help with that.”

He was still talking about the future. This was also a promising sign.

“But,” he continued, “I also think that it can wait until tomorrow, because I really don’t have the energy to have this conversation now. So – can we just go to bed?”

Richard just nodded, weak with relief. “Anything you want.”

“I haven’t slept all week,” Lee confessed, once they were ensconced under their mountain of blankets (Richard practically delirious with the familiarity and the intense heat that Lee was radiating) “except when I blacked out from drinking. I was so worried that you’d call and I’d miss it – at least, when I was optimistic enough to think that you would call at all. To be honest… I sort of thought you would go home.”

“I felt about it,” he admitted, squeezing Lee tighter when he felt a little shudder run through him.

“I think that would have killed me,” Lee said candidly, “so – thank you.”

“I should never have left in the first place.”

“Yeah, I know – but you came back, and that’s what matters.”

They lapsed into silence, Richard closing his eyes and letting his wandering fingertips graze through Lee’s hair and over his neck and shoulders and arms, slow and steady and soothing, his own limbs relaxing as Lee’s breathing deepened. And then –

“What made you change your mind?”

The story of the bartender poured out without any further prompting. Lee seemed as surprised that Richard had shared the sorry tale of the fight with a complete stranger as Richard had been when he found himself doing so.

“We’ll be okay, you know,” Lee told him softly, once he was finished, “it might not happen straight away, but we’ll get there.”

“You think you’ll be able to forgive me for scaring so easily and treating you so badly?”

“As long as you let me go to sleep,” he said with a tiny flicker of a smile, letting Richard press a kiss between his eyes before resuming his gentle caresses. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he hadn’t slept all week – judging by the fact that he was out cold in less than a minute – and Richard let himself drift off as well, hoping desperately that he could get them through this despite everything.

He awoke three hours later, the volume of scotch he’d ingested at the bar finally having caught up to him. He slipped from the bed silently, Lee’s embrace loose and unconscious, and headed for the bathroom – but when he returned, Lee had turned over, pulling the blankets over his head to make a nest.

A nest from which muffled noises were emanating.

They sounded like sobs.

Richard sat down on the bed cautiously, pressing a hand to the part of the lump he guessed was Lee’s shoulder and squeezing. “Lee?”

A hand appeared, and then another, and then a messy head of hair and then – a tearstained face.

Twice in one night.

He was never going to be able to atone for this.

“I thought you left. I woke up and you were _gone._ ”

“Only to the bathroom,” Richard placated, sick to the stomach at Lee’s expression and knowing that he was the reason for it, “and I came straight back, honest.”

“I thought you’d gone,” Lee repeated, “and –”

His face crumpled and voice hitched on the last word and yes, Richard was officially the worst person ever to have lived. Climbing back under the blankets, he pulled a quivering Lee towards him, letting him curl against his chest and bury his nose in his neck, his tears silent save for the occasional hiccupping gasp. Richard just held him, rubbing his back and making what he hoped were comforting noises until Lee’s breathing evened out and he pulled away, looking back up at Richard with a red nose and damp eyes.

He thought his heart would burst.

“I swear to god that I will _never_ walk out on you again.”

“I love you,” Lee whispered, tracing one hesitant finger over Richard’s jaw and cheekbone, across his forehead and down his nose, coming to rest on his lips. His eyes stayed fixed there as Richard pressed his tongue to the fingertip in question before sucking it gently into his mouth.

It was a dirty trick to pull out, but it always got the same reaction: a low little whine in Lee’s throat, the fingers of his other hand flexing around Richard’s hip impatiently as he curled his tongue around Lee’s finger and pulled it in further, down to the last knuckle. And, sure enough, when Richard shifted closer, he could feel the hot press of Lee’s cock against his leg.

It came as a relief.

Thank god Lee still wanted him.

“Rich,” he murmured, withdrawing his finger, his eyes settling on Richard’s again, “please.”

“On your back, love,” he whispered, and Lee nearly rolled off the bed in his haste, upsetting most of the blankets and spreading his legs in anticipation. Richard crawled between them, fingertips smoothing over Lee’s thighs in a way that he knew made him shiver before bending his head to lick a wet stripe along the lovely dip beneath each of his hipbones, smothering his triumphant little laugh in warm skin as Lee arched and twisted under him.

“Come on,” he whined, “don’t tease.”

“Anything you want,” he promised again, curling his fingers around the base of Lee’s cock, feeling it twitch against his palm as Lee’s head fell back against the pillows with a relieved sigh.

He took his time, lazily tonguing its length, intentionally focusing on Lee’s favourite spots and wringing every possible whimper and moan out of him in the process, before wrapping his lips around the head and sliding downwards. He kept his pace slow but insistent, taking more of Lee’s cock down his throat each time until his nose was brushing skin, relishing the quiet intensity of Lee’s reactions and the way that he was burning up under Richard’s touch.

But it had been nearly a week, after all – and shit, the sight and taste and feel of Lee was doing all kinds of things to him, despite the fact that he was so devoted to the task at hand that he was barely thinking about his own arousal – so it didn’t surprise him when Lee reached the edge far sooner than usual.

Like the rest of the encounter, it happened quietly – a series of breathy whimpers, each more desperate than the last, until he came with one last exhale, eyes squeezed shut and whole body trembling. And Richard savoured it, warm on his tongue, swallowing with Lee still in his mouth and coaxing out every drop he could until he felt Lee’s hands in his hair, tugging him back up the bed for a long kiss.

“What about you?” Lee asked softly, sweeping tentative fingers over his shoulder and chest and down his stomach and –

“Don’t worry about it.” Yes, he was hard (and wouldn’t exactly say no to another round if Lee pounced on him) but if he was honest, he was more anxious to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and nuzzle into his neck and sleep properly for the first time in a week.

“I just… I don’t want you to resent me even more.” Lee’s timid little voice (who knew such a tall man could sound so small and anxious?) broke his heart.

“I don’t resent you. I don’t think I could if I tried. I love you and you have changed my life. All of this,” he flung an arm out, unable to articulate more but knowing that Lee understood what he meant, “is my fault, and mine alone.” He scooted back down the bed slightly, just far enough to rest his chin on Lee’s chest and look back up at him with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Lee could only manage a trembling chin in return.

“This last week has been pretty awful,” he whispered, “and I hate myself for being like this but I don’t think I could manage if you decided that this isn’t what you want. You’ve changed me too, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Richard repeated, like a stuck record, but he felt like no matter how many times he said it, it would never be enough.

Nothing would ever be enough.

Except, perhaps, some ludicrously public gesture – something that Richard wouldn’t be able to walk away from, something that would ease all of Lee’s doubts about how he felt and whether he was in this for the long haul. And so he threw it out there, just on the off chance that it would help his case.

“If the price of being with you is that we tell the world we’re in a relationship, I’ll go down to the New York Times office tomorrow morning and place a full page ad – if that’s what you want, if that’s what it takes for you to stay with me, I’ll do it.”

For the first time all night, a light sparked in Lee’s eyes and he managed a laugh – his real laugh, a nice laugh, not the sour little snicker he’d given when Richard had first showed up. “God, you’re so adorable.”

Before Richard knew what was happening, Lee had flipped them both over and was kissing the breath out of him. Richard savoured it – the familiarity of his weight, Richard’s legs curled around his waist, the shape and smoothness of his shoulders and back, the insistent nudge of his tongue and the way the two of them just seemed to fit together so damn effortlessly. Christ, he had been a fool. He couldn’t give this man up for anything.

When Lee pulled away – quite some time later, it had to be said – he was still smiling. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But do you want me to? Because if you do, Lee, I swear –”

“All I want is for you to be comfortable enough with this that the thought of strangers knowing we’re together doesn’t terrify you to the point of arguing and walking out and giving up on us,” Lee said gently, “and for you to do whatever it will take to get yourself to that point. And if there’s some way that I can help with that process – anything you need from me – just tell me, and whatever it is, I will do it in a heartbeat.”

“To be honest, I think I’m nearly there,” he admitted. “It felt strange blurting it all into Amanda’s voicemail, but at the same time it was almost like I couldn’t understand why I’d hidden it from her for so long… It will get easier the more people we tell, right?”

“Of course,” Lee assured him, then paused. “Wanna practise now?”

“Mmm… tomorrow. Right now, I’d rather practise sleeping with you. Not like that,” he smirked at Lee’s expression, “that can wait until tomorrow, too. Christ, you’re insatiable.”

“You love me, don’t deny it,” Lee teased, burrowing down into the blankets again and holding out his arm invitingly, gesturing for Richard to settle into his embrace.

“More than anything, Lee, I swear.”

There was something about being curled into Lee that made him feel more at ease than he ever had in his life – and he wanted to spend every waking moment cultivating that feeling and basking in it.

“So who should I call first?”

“Well, if you want to stop being set up with women, I would suggest Sarah,” Lee responded, his words muffled by Richard’s shoulder – but he could feel the stretch of his grin anyway.

“I think I’d like to meet her, by the way.”

Richard twisted his head to look at Lee in confusion. “Who? Sarah? You know her already.”

“No, this bartender who convinced you to come back to me.”

“You make it sound like she had to work so hard for it,” Richard teased, grateful for the genuine smile he got from Lee in response.

“Well, of course she didn’t. I’m delightful. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still be grateful.”

This time, it was Richard’s turn to laugh. “You are indeed delightful,” he acknowledged, “and I am an idiot of the highest order.”

“Only sometimes,” Lee smirked, “so – are you going to tell me where the bar is, so I can go and give her a thousand dollar tip for bringing you home?” He paused. “It’s not one of those really seedy underground type places, is it? I can just see you hiding out somewhere like that.”

Richard rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “No, it wasn’t seedy. I wouldn’t know how to find a seedy bar in New York – and I doubt they’d let me in anyway.”

“Much too clean cut,” Lee agreed with a solemn little nod that made both of them grin some more.

“But no, not seedy,” he repeated, reflecting on the interior and the atmosphere (save for the little drunkard’s spot at the bar that he’d cultivated over the past week, which was desirable to no one – objectively speaking, not even him). When he thought about it, he concluded that it was the sort of place that Lee would probably like. And that realisation spawned an idea – one which he would have discounted as reckless not so many hours ago, but which now seemed like the most natural of suggestions.

“Actually, they do food, too – or so I’m led to believe – so,” he cleared his throat, unable to believe that he was actually about to ask, “can I take you there? On a date?”

Lee squinted at him with a serious expression – but it was the serious expression that Richard knew he only wore when he was about to make a joke (or, at least, an intentionally poor attempt at one), so he wasn’t fazed when he didn’t get a straightforward response.

“A date. A real date,” he said thoughtfully, and Richard hummed in agreement. “I suppose that depends.”

“On?”

“Well, do you promise to make gooey eyes at me across the table?”

“I make gooey eyes at you all the time, Lee. That’s just what my eyes are like when I look at you.”

“Unsatisfactory answer,” Lee pronounced, and Richard shook his head with another grin.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Do you promise that we can share a dessert?”

“I can’t see you being satisfied with half a dessert – but if you promise not to complain about still being hungry afterwards, then yes, I promise.” The mental image of Lee sitting across the table from him, sneaking food off his plate and battling him for the last mouthful of their dessert, was too gorgeous to pass up.

“Do you promise to feel me up sneakily when no one is looking?”

“Oh, trust me, I promise to do a whole lot more than feel you up,” he smirked, and Lee raised one eyebrow. “In public? Damn, Rich, you never told me you were a closet exhibitionist.”

A loud laugh bubbled out of Richard’s mouth. “I don’t fancy getting arrested for having sex in public, as memorable as it would be to spend a night in the cells with you. You know full well what I meant. But yes, when we go out, I promise to – what was the phrase? – sneakily feel you up, if that would make you happy.”

“Do you promise –”

“Yes, love. Whatever it is, yes. I promise you everything.” 

Lee beamed at him. “In that case, yes. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

Yes, they were going to be okay.

And it felt good.

It felt really good.

Except –

“I’m doing this all backwards,” he lamented with a morose sigh. It might have been a decade since he’d even attempted to court a man, but he was still pretty sure that everything he had done with Lee so far had happened exactly the wrong order. Moving in with someone before ever going on a date with them was probably one of the biggest faux pas of all. And what did that mean for their future?

But the distress clearly visible on his face just earned a rumbling little laugh from Lee. “Shower me in affection and gifts and I think I’ll be able to let it slide.”

“Anything you want, Lee. Name it, and it’s yours.”

“You,” he said softly, “I just want you.”

Richard wondered, if he was to put his hand on his heart, whether he would be able to physically feel the giddy warmth in his chest.

“Luckily for you, I have no plans to go anywhere ever again.”

Lee squinted at him thoughtfully, obviously contemplating some further comment, and then –

“Not even to the kitchen to bring me my phone so I can text Mom and give her the green light for Thanksgiving?”

His eyes were bright and hopeful in the darkness and once again, Richard found himself giving the only real answer he could.

“For that, I suppose I could make an exception.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this blew out into a 14k monster - I sincerely hope it wasn't intolerably long :/
> 
> Part 4 is a wee way away since I've had a bit of a reshuffle of the series, but the good news is that part 5 is already about 60% done so there shouldn't be too much delay between them!
> 
> Also: the companion piece to DNR is coming. Eventually. Honest.

**Author's Note:**

> Another shining example of my inability to write a short story that is actually short... Second half is coming along nicely and should be up next weekend (or the weekend after at the latest). Please let me know what you think so far!
> 
> Also - if anyone is interested in the reference to the Aidan and Dean relationship, this series can be read alongside the short series I'm in the process of writing about them (one part still to be written/posted).
> 
> Tumblr is toutcequejesuispas if you want to come say hi :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated and thank you for reading!


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